


Hand of the Lotus

by laurelofthestory



Series: The Forgotten Words [7]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, One Shot, POV Third Person, Visions in dreams, minor fantasy racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelofthestory/pseuds/laurelofthestory
Summary: Ordis has spent two hundred years waiting for something. One night, he finally finds out what that something is.Out of context oneshot for an abandoned fantasy AU. Posted forGood Intentions WIP-fest
Series: The Forgotten Words [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979123
Kudos: 7
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	Hand of the Lotus

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, my final work for the Good Intentions event!
> 
> You ever get really, really, REALLY ambitious?
> 
> Around March, I spent some time trying to work Warframe into the D&D 5E ruleset. It didn't work out because I'm bad with numbers and balancing things, but I did get some setting things done and some ideas I'm willing to share. The basics were that the main setting was an archipelago, with each island representing a planet or two. The Orokin were still a horrendous dictatorial elitist society that used to rule from their floating isle of Lua. Warframes were battle golems piloted by Tenno who had been exposed to the Void plane, a demiplane similar to the astral plane existing just above the material world where Lua and the Tenno now lie waiting to be found. Characters would have a sheet for their Warframe, using preset physical stats and spell lists, but their mental stats and skills would depend on their Tenno and always stay static. Their Warframe would be deliberately overpowered and their Tenno deliberately a glass cannon. The Sentients were a race from another plane of existence that can't cross through the Void plane, but can reach out in...other ways, as you see here.
> 
> Ordis in particular becomes a cleric here, with a custom domain based on Arcana/Knowledge. He's the only conduit for the Lotus' messages to the party aside from dreams, until...stuff happens. He also has much the same backstory, with a mage's binding curse like a prisoner's collar in runes around his throat and the base of his skull, and the Orokin blood of eternal life in his veins.
> 
> Check out the other works in the Good Intentions event [here,](https://goodintentionswipfest.tumblr.com/) and a huge thanks to those running it. I've posted a bunch of stuff with confidence that never would've seen the light of day just because of the good vibes of everyone in the event. Happy Halloween!

Ordis picked a very, very bad time to be traveling through the Gaea region. Then again, it’s _usually_ a bad time to be _most_ places in the Gaea region.

He’s surprised that the island hasn’t been entirely wiped out, or filled coast-to-coast with toxic gases and swamp. Gaea has spent roughly one hundred years in the vise-grip of the Grineer, a race of Orokin-created glorified cattle who are...well. Ordis doesn’t think it’s really fair to compare them to orcs or goblins, as he’s met members of both races who were actually quite pleasant. Even calling them brainless lizards would be a disservice to the lizards. No, the vast majority of the Grineer are big and brutish, with roughly half the brainpower and twice the smell of your average zombie, and generally only know how to make war, start fights, and yell about the glory of their queens while bludgeoning you repeatedly with a blunt object.

The village of Cambrial is in a particularly bad way with the Grineer at the moment, mainly due to the fact that it is situated directly next door to the Lith Tower, which is currently under siege--though, to be fair, the Lith Tower is _always_ under siege. But Grineer activity had significantly increased in the area since Ordis had blown in about two weeks prior. It was rumored that this had something to do with a new commander who, to everyone’s surprise, had enough brains to probably be able to figure out the right end of a horse, and definitely enough to be combing Gaea for _something._ Ordis doesn’t know the fellow by name (and he’s heard teenagers snorting to each other about it as if they know some scandalous secret, cementing the fact that he probably does _not_ want to ask), but what he _does_ know is that said commander’s troops are practically _everywhere,_ and leaving Cambrial is tantamount to suicide at the moment.

At least, it’s suicidal when you had your kneecap and most of your shin bludgeoned repeatedly with a blunt object the last time you tried.

Really, it had been mostly his own fault for thinking he’d be better off heading for the harbor after dark--he wasn’t expecting the Grineer to be smart enough to patrol the edges of the city to make sure no one was running supplies or people to the tower. And he really could’ve gotten off much worse, or so he’d told the very alarmed proprietor of the little inn he was currently staying at when he managed to crawl back to the doorstep. Ordis insisted the man still take money while he was bedridden, and refused to bother the already-overworked town healers about it--he could wait it out. The proprietor expressed some doubts, but Ordis assured him his healing factor was quite impressive, and even a shattered leg wouldn’t take very long to knit itself back together.

Though, Ordis supposes those doubts are understandable. After all, he is only a human.

Well, Ordis is _pretty_ sure he is, at least. He has no pointy ears, horns, scales, fur, or hooves; he isn’t outrageously tall or short, and can’t even seem to grow a proper beard. He’s just a strange fellow on the shorter side with old scars he can’t remember earning criss-crossing over one side of his face.

He’s had his doubts about his nature in the past, of course--after all, humans generally can’t heal near-mortal wounds in a fortnight, and usually don’t live for over two hundred years without aging a day. He wonders if, maybe, the Orokin had given him some of their immortal god-blood when they gave him life. It would be quite an honor if they had, but there’s none of them left to really ask anymore. The only thing Ordis knows is that they had brought him into the world, and for that he’s eternally _(hateful)_ grateful.

He’s found over time that, like most things, he’s better off not thinking too hard about it all.

Not that he has much to do other than think and stare out the little window of the small but surprisingly cozy room he’s trapped in, leg wrapped up tight in bandages and cloth. The innkeeper--a heavyset gnome with tired eyes Ordis really can’t blame him for--would come to check on and talk with him occasionally, and offered him some books to read, but it was going on Ordis’ third day stuck inside, and he was starting to lose his wits even more than usual. He’d gotten used to traveling between the islands over the decades, never quite fitting and never really making friends anywhere, but learning and trying to keep himself occupied as he waited for...something.

He hasn’t been bothered by the life of a drifter, of course. Wandering around with no direction and no purpose in life for decades on decades? Not exactly _liked_ by most people he ran into? Filled with the strong sense that he’s _waiting_ for something but not knowing _what_ or _why?_ It doesn’t bother him. Not at all.

He’s better off not thinking about it.

But _this?_ This is a situation he can complain about, and he entirely blames the Grineer for it. Their greedy, careless hands had already destroyed one island and were rapidly working on making the much more inhabited Gaea impossible to survive on. Ordis wishes he could help resist them in some way, wishes he could be _useful_ , but he couldn’t fight off a fly, let alone a Grineer platoon. He just does whatever little he can.

The sunset is only just now turning the room’s wall orange, but Ordis has already read the book on Gaean plantlife twice now (truthfully, he’s much more interested in the arcane, but he has a soft spot for the _magical_ \--unique ecosystem that once thrived here). His mind is beginning to wander, and he does not like it when that happens, because it means he _thinks too much_ and it _hurts._

 _The Tenno do not want a minder who thinks too much,_ the Orokin had told him once, _Do you want them to hate you?_ Of course not. His purpose had been to protect them, and he had cared for them dearly. But the sentiment still remains, even though both the Orokin empire and the Tenno are long gone, one destroyed and the other all but vanished.

Ordis scowls at his hands in his lap. What is he _doing,_ thinking about the old days? He’d clearly been stuck here too long, because he’s _thinking_ and he’s probably being a terrible bother to the innkeeper. As soon as his leg is good enough to stand on, he’s going to try and find another way out.

But his leg is _not_ good enough to stand on yet, and so he simply flops over backwards in frustration and drags the blanket over himself to block out the sunset. It’s early, yes, but he has to clear his head.

That’s another tick on the list of why Ordis is fairly certain he’s human. He has the human need to eat, and drink, and sleep--and when he sleeps, he dreams just like any other human would, even if the dreams are sometimes terrifying in a way he doesn’t remember when he wakes up _(breathless and choking on the smell of copper.)_

The dream he has now is not like one of those dreams. It _feels_ different, though he can’t concentrate on it enough to pinpoint why. It is a non-concern that drifts out of his mind the moment it comes as most thoughts tend to in dreams, and he takes in his surroundings.

It is...beautiful, in a strange sort of way. He is standing at the beginning of a long, rounded hallway bathed in deep purple light. The ground under his feet feels like metal and... _not-_ metal at the same time, constantly shifting and rippling like water, though he can’t feel it moving. The ceiling is covered with arches of strange white roots that stretch and split like branches overhead, occasionally winding around struts of both metal and bone.

As far as he can tell, he is alone, despite the heavy, imposing presence surrounding him. The air is hushed and still, and it feels like he has passed into somewhere equal parts alien and sacred.

Something pulls him forward, an invisible string connected to his chest. Like most things in dreams, he can’t bring himself to worry about it, simply walking along with it through the darkened, rippling hallway. Time blends into itself, and he emerges into a wider area lit up with brighter lavender that almost blinds him. He finds himself a massive dome full of the white roots, the roof now clearly visible and made of not-quite-glass that shines with a light of its own, revealing nothing on the other side of it. 

In the center of the room is a raised dais, and standing on that dais is a woman. She is tall and stately, almost statuesque, wearing beautiful robes of purple silk that trail to the floor. The hood of a deep purple cloak is pulled down low over her face, leaving only her mouth visible, lips pursed in an incorrigible half-frown. On the cloak’s hood is embroidered a strange, shield-like insignia he can’t place.

His gaze is drawn to her like a magnet, and it’s immediately clear--this is _her_ place. _She_ is the source of the aura, the presence, the _gravity_ of the atmosphere. She studies him for a while, and he just stares back in a vacant, unfocused sort of way, because he still thinks he is dreaming and his mind is casting about for what should happen next. After a moment, the woman gracefully extends her arm towards him, as if beckoning him, and--

Lucidity hits Ordis like a herd of angry buffalo.

Ordis yelps, stumbling back a step in surprise before tripping on his own feet and landing squarely on his rear end. He scampers towards the hallway like a startled rat, staring up wide-eyed at the woman before analyzing his surroundings in with a clearer head. Something is _definitely_ wrong with the place, he can tell now, but he still isn’t sure _what._

After a few moments of sheer panic, his words come back to him, and he focuses on the woman again. “Wh--what is _happening?"_

She’s gone back to standing eerily still with her hands clasped in front of her, and now that he really _looks_ at her, something feels off about _her,_ too. Again, it’s nothing he can really put into words--perhaps it’s just _how_ still she is, or how she doesn’t twitch and shift her weight like people do, or how he can’t be sure if she’s standing on or _above_ the dais. And he can _feel_ her eyes on him, even if he can’t see them--they stare into his soul in a way that is thoroughly disconcerting, and he reaches up to scratch at his neck.

“...You are the one called Ordis.” When she finally speaks, it’s in a low, calm tone that fills the room and echoes forever. 

It is clearly not a question, but Ordis nods anyway, shakily. “Y--yes. You’ve--heard of me! That's a bit of a surprise, I admit--you must understand this is all quite--”

“You helped the Tenno.”

That hits him like _another_ herd, this one perhaps led by a forward guard of orc berserkers. It feels like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs.

_How does she know?_

Yes, he had helped the Tenno, on the night that the empire died and their isle of Lua disappeared. He had long cared for the ones the Orokin called devils from the Void plane, even if he understood their strange powers even less than the Tenno themselves did. It was this care that had allowed him to reason that his loyalty to the Tenno superseded his loyalty to the Orokin, and, on the day of their bloody rebellion, he had helped a small group of them escape the guards relentlessly chasing them to the shores.

He could not escape himself, of course. One of the Orokin Executors had shown up in person and called him off, and he had no choice but to obey. Given that the Orokin were dealing with a war on several fronts as their many enemies took advantage of their weakness, recapturing a few ‘demons’ they already hated was probably not a top priority for them at the time--and, really, Ordis doubted even the most well-trained of soldiers would last long against a Tenno’s Warframe, or particularly wanted to try their luck.

Ordis realizes that the woman is still staring at him, patient but expectant. He swallows dryly, still picking at the skin of his throat. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

The woman steps off the dais like she’s stepping onto air, and gently floats down to his level. She closes the gap between them, walking without making a sound, and gestures for him to stand. He does so, as straight and proper as he can manage.

“I must ask you to help them again,” the woman says, an edge of pain coming into her voice. “The Tenno...my children...It is time for them to wake.”

His eyes go even wider, if possible. “They--they are still alive? They’re coming back?”

“I put them to sleep long ago, to protect them. So they could weather the worst of the war in their dreams. But now, the Warframes must return to this place--to fix the shattered pieces of this world.”

“...What can I do to help?” It’s not a question of ‘if’--helping the Tenno was the purpose he’d been missing all these years. _This_ is what he’d been waiting for all this time, he’s _sure_ of it.

The corner of the woman’s lip turns upward very slightly. “Take this.”

She raises her arm again, and just above her palm, there’s a burst of lavender not-quite-light, coalescing into an object roughly the size and shape of a coin. She holds up her palm and gently pushes it forward, and the object slowly floats through the air forwards him, still bathed in a purple aura. Ordis watches in awe, reaching out towards the object almost unconsciously, until a gloved hand closes around it.

It’s not as much like getting run over as it is like being struck by lightning. 

He gasps sharply and crumples to his knees, clutching the coin to his chest, and he’s read enough to _know_ \--what she’s given him is magic, of some sort. Ordis will admit that he’s the last person to deserve such a thing, but the tingling on his skin is quite thrilling nonetheless.

“I grant you my power,” the woman continues as if nothing had happened, and he looks back up at her, “so that you may protect my children in that place where I cannot go. Call on me and on the gifts I have given you only for their safety.”

“I will,” he replies, and this time, it’s firm as stone.

“They are on the island called Gaea. The Grineer are trying to find them. You must not let this happen. Meet them. I will give you further instructions when you are all safe.”

Ordis slowly gets back to his feet, clutching the talisman in both hands. There’s a prickling at the base of his spine, a feeling of wrongness to all of this that gradually grows--she shouldn’t be trusting him, he _shouldn’t be here,_ and it finally bursts out of him. “I don’t think I can--”

“The Tenno can fight for themselves. Your only task is to ensure they stay united and survive.”

There’s a sharpness to her tone that brokers no argument--it’s clear that _she_ is in charge. He shrinks back a bit, though something like indignation bubbles up from his stomach, because he doesn’t _like_ the thought of taking orders, not unless it was on his own terms--but he’s _supposed_ to take orders, that is his _purpose_ \--his neck is burning, why is it _burning_ \--

She steps back and raises her hand again. The world shatters.

Ordis sits up with a start--in the bed, in the room, in the inn, and apparently in the dead of night if the view out the window is any indication. His shoulders heave as he gasps for breath, and his hands fumble for the burning skin around his neck, though the pain is already fading. The dream, however, stays absolutely _vivid_ in his mind--before he can think, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed--

Oh. He can move his leg, now. He starts unwrapping the bandages to find healed skin and bone underneath, wondering if this was the work of the strange purple woman or her talisman.

...The talisman! Once his leg is less stiffly bound, he stands, planning to fumble about for a candle to look for it--but a small _thunk_ on the ground renders any light other than the half-moon unnecessary. Throwing the blankets tangled around his legs back onto the bed, he kneels and feels around the floor towards the sound.

His hand closes around something warm, and he holds it up to his face, taking it in for the first time. It's made of a black material that feels like it should be smooth stone, though it’s hollow like bone and almost springy. On the face of the coin, faintly glowing, is a purple shield insignia--the same from the woman’s cloak.

Now that he can think straight, he really _doesn’t_ recognize the symbol from anything he’s read. But the talisman is _definitely_ arcane, and it’s _definitely_ granted him...something. He knows of warlocks and their bonds, paladins and their oaths, clerics and their talismans--but had he truly met a goddess? Some sort of higher being?

Come to think of it, he hadn’t even gotten her name.

He stares at the coin, turns it over. On the back is another glowing purple etching, this one of a flower. It takes him a few moments, but this symbol he _does_ recognize.

“...Lotus,” he muses. A symbol of rebirth.

He slips the token into the pocket of his overcoat, and spends a few more seconds on the floor before heaving a sigh and standing up. His leg still feels funny, but he’s at least confident that he can walk on it, a week ahead of schedule.

...Why him? How could he help them? _Could_ he help them? The burning creeps back around his collarbone, a pricking at his skin. It is his purpose to help them. His only purpose to serve them. The burning grows.

He _wants_ to help them.

The burning subsides. Ordis feels like he can breathe again.

Right. There’s no point in going out before first light, but once the sun comes up, he’s going to head out looking. Tenno aren’t exactly subtle about anything they do, so he’ll likely run into them eventually by following their trail of _(glorious)_ destruction or panicking Grineer. The Isles have been stagnant and dying for two hundred years since the empire’s fall _(and long before that, in his opinion),_ but now that the Tenno were returning, they could put the world back together, and _finally_ bring peace.

And as he thinks about that, Ordis is filled with a giddy thrill, because he’s going to get to be a _part_ of it all--as long as they let him.


End file.
